When I can’t stand it any longer, he slips out and lies with me on the couch as we catch our breath.
“Was that an angry fuck?” I ask.
“Yes. I got myself all worked up on the flight back because you’re leaving me.”
I think about what he’s saying. “I’m not leaving you. I’m just not moving in with you. It doesn’t mean we won’t spend every night together.”
“But you won’t work for me anymore.”
“Tell your lawyers you’re fucking your assistant and see what they say.”
My head rests on his chest, and his heartbeat is steady and strong.
“That’s not enough,” he says. “And you promised you’d find someone to replace your before you left.”
“You’re right. I did promise that, but then you sent me here for six weeks.”
“You act like it’s my fault you have a crazy stalker. That blame belongs to your ex, Bobby Sanders.”
I sit up. I know Jackson’s angry because he’s not getting his way, but he’s also not respecting my choices. “I’m sorry this upsets you so much.”
“It does upset me.” He sits up and runs his hands through his hair. “I’m not a cheater. I have women fall all over me, and I’ve never even looked at them twice since we became involved. I’m happy to announce that you’ve stolen my heart, and I’m only yours, but I can’t make these women stop calling me. I don’t even see why that matters. Ignore them. They’re nothing to me.”
He’s right, and I know that, but I’m not very good at explaining why I need to protect my heart. “I know. Please understand, my mother depended on my father for everything. What do I do if I’m working for you and living with you and you decide to move on? I’ll be left with nothing. I’d be broken and homeless, like my mother was.”
“You won’t be left with nothing; you have stock options. And anyway, that’s not what’s going to happen with us. I need you.”
It’s the broken part he doesn’t understand. I need to change the subject, because right now we’re never going to agree. “Leilani is making a nice dinner. Are you hungry?”
“You’re done talking about this?”
I choose my words carefully. “I think we’re at an impasse and continuing to talk about it will only make matters worse.”
“Damn it, Corrine. You can’t change the subject or ignore it. We need to figure this out.”
This is it. Unless I bend to Jackson’s will, he’s going to break this off. I knew this was coming, so I might as well rip off the Band-Aid. “There’s nothing to figure out.” I stand up and put my dress back on. “You want me working for you, listening to the women who want to fuck you, and then living in your home so you can fuck me at night when it’s convenient for you. I hear you.”
“I’ve told you we’ll hire someone else to answer the phones.”
“Have you heard anything I said? Do you think you’ll make demands to fuck me in your office in San Francisco like you’ve done this afternoon?”
“Maybe.”
“And what will you do when a former lover calls and asks you to meet her? Go running, leaving me home alone in your apartment with no place to call my own?”
“I won’t do that again. I’ve learned my lesson. Plus, you’ll always have this house. You’ll never be homeless again.”
What. The. Fuck? “You’re not listening to me. Yours is not the only perspective that matters in this relationship—if it’s actually going to be a relationship. I’m going to sleep downstairs tonight. I need to think about this.” I whip around. “Alone.”
“You walk out on this conversation and we’re done.”
I look at him, and I see the pain in his face. But I shrug. “Better now than after I am living under your roof.”
Chapter 37
Corrine
The sun has fallen below the horizon. I’ve missed dinner, but I’m not hungry. I keep replaying our conversation earlier. I hear the bathroom door slide open, but I ignore him. Our relationship can’t be his way or the highway. Jackson can’t always be in control.
“I knew he’d dump you eventually,” says a female voice I don’t recognize.
I roll over in bed, and although it takes me a minute to place her, I realize I’m looking into the eyes of Valerie, or Jennifer—or whatever she calls herself. She’s dressed in all black, her hair slicked back into a high ponytail, and she stares at me, but her eyes don’t seem focused.
“What are you doing here?” I look around the room in a panic. There is nothing I can see beyond a pillow to defend myself. I don’t even have my cell phone. I left it in the library. Crap.
“You fucked up my life. I warned you.” Venom drips from her voice.
I’m confused. But then it hits me. She’s the one who’s been harassing me. It never had anything to do with Bobby Sanders.
“What do you want?” I ask her.
“If you were out of the picture, he’d be with me.”
This woman is delusional. I sit up and look to the door, hoping and praying he’s going to come in.
“He’s not coming for you,” she growls.
“He’ll have caught you on video trespassing.” I try to reason with her, hoping she’ll say what she needs to and go away.
“They’re so dense. They open the gates all the time for delivery drivers and cars. Then they open up all the doors and windows, and I walk right in. This house is so big. You know I slept right in the next room for days, and
